House hunting

I find house hunting tedious. Weekends get wasted as we trudge from one house to another , figuring what house suits our needs the best.I would much rather stay in bed for longer, have a cup of tea and laze around! Or be out in the fabulous weather walking and running. Or shopping! 

But there is vicarious pleasure in being a  peeping Tom . I get a ringside view of the way people live in their homes, what they favor, and the image they want to project of themselves.Some houses are oh-so elegant, and I get dizzy in those - no way can I match that level of hard work. Some are functional. Some impractical. Some look lived in, and some are not very neat. But none of the houses is impersonal. 

Scarsdale is famous for its excellent public schools. So once the children go to college,  most people sell their houses, and get ready to move out to Manhattan, or wherever they came from. I wonder how hard it must be to leave the house because it would hold so many happy memories for the family as the children grew up.  No longer will you see the kitchen counter where the children shared their day with you while you were cooking. Or the backyard, where the child fell off and hurt herself. And where the kids played soccer and basketball all evening.  Or where the wife surprised you with a big birthday party. All that will now reside in your heart and in your memories. Leaving all that must cause a bit of pain.

 I try to picture the family that lives in the house. What profession are the adults in? How long did they stay in this house? What are the children doing now? Did the house bring them happiness? What do they intend to do with all the stuff in the house?

The photographs in the houses are a pleasure to see. Marriage pictures of the bride and groom -  young, eager and happy,  beaming into the camera. Children at different ages in their lives. Places they have visited together. Pictures of close family and friends. Pictures of happiness, love and fun times. 

The kitchen tells me the food they eat. Some kitchens have loads of packaged foods. Refrigerators of others are filled with fresh produce. Some kitchens have fabulous cookbooks, and I wonder if they were ever used to create beautiful food at home, or if they are just for show. What food does the family eat? Cereal in the morning, or a hot brekkie of pancakes, eggs and bacon? Do they eat grilled stuff, and lots of veggies? Or is their diet predominantly non vegetarian. Do they drink coffee? Does the coffee machine use whole beans or the ground variety?The bars are stocked differently everywhere and I wonder what they drink and what they buy for their family and friends. What kind of meats do they barbeque?Do they have special family recipes?

As I go through the house, many questions come to my mind. 

A blanket on the sofa in the living room, and a depression on a particular seat - how do they watch TV? And who sits in that seat all the time? What TV programs do they watch? Does the whole family watch TV together.  Who puts the linen away so neatly?Who makes up the beds every morning? Who files away all the paper? Does an abundance of musical instruments and certificates reflect that the family is musically inclined? Sporty things all over - are they fitness oriented? Paintings and decorations from different countries - do they travel a lot? Perhaps in the diplomatic corps?  Big pots, pans and lots of crockery - do they entertain a lot? How do they entertain? What do they serve as food? What kind of cutlery and crockery do they use? 

The closets tell me the kind of clothes they prefer. And I wonder what precious clothes are stored in the cedar closet. How many pairs of sneakers does the husband own? Is he a runner? Or plays some game? Is the lady of the house working? Does she work full time? Does the couple party a lot? Are they brand driven, or do they prefer value? Is the couple well maintained? Or out of shape?

What appeals to me the most, and makes me promptly fall in love with the house is the library and/or the books that line the bookshelves. I browse shamelessly through the books. Who reads political stuff? Or the business books? That must be one indulgent mother who reads so many books to her young children, and sits with them as they color, solve puzzles and practice patterns. Who sits on the desk and works? Why is there a paper shredder in the study? Who sharpens all the pencils?Do they look out of the window and daydream as they work?  If I find my favorite books on the shelf, I take one down and open it to any random page...I believe it will give me a clue on if the house will be a happy one for me. 

There are two kinds of houses that depress me . 

One - of families breaking up. I wonder how bad and bitter things can get before the couple calls it quits, and lets go of the life they had created together. How fraught with pain that experience must be!

Two -the houses of old people, mostly single, because the spouse has passed on, and they stay alone in the big house. These houses have a similar smell - of medicines, and products that old people use. The kitchens are sparse, only with the basics that the person needs. The furniture is old, the carpets and upholstery old too.The photographs , certificates and medals reflect a time long gone by. To me it looks like life stopped happening in the house a long time ago. It upsets me. And makes me wonder on the inanity of our wants and desires. We acquire, and acquire - and yet, a day will come when we won’t need these things anymore, and when our prized possessions will hold no value for anyone else. 

And still - I hunt for the house that will beckon to me, and ask me to make it my own home.  And take me one step further in acquiring roots in Scarsdale - this place I call home now. 

Learning to Breathe

One of my oldest friends stopped by yesterday and remarked that I had not written a blog for months. And I told her that I had nothing to say. She looked at me strangely and commented,‘Really? I never thought I would see the day when you would have nothing to say!’

When did I become this? Since when did I have nothing to say? My kids call me a ‘social shut-in’  because I am not being social , not attending PTA meets or hooking up with other Moms to make friends in Scarsdale.  And my parents comment that I am working too hard at domestic chores and not attempting to get out there and get a job. And my best friend in Mumbai is terribly upset that I have become too distant - literally and figuratively. My friends worry that I am lonely, and/or the cold weather is getting me down.

I think  I am in a slow down mode. A sort of downtime really. I loved Mumbai - its energy, its pace . I went with the flow - and loved every moment of my stay in Mumbai. After all, in my whole life, I had never stayed in one place that long. Suddenly, I had around me an incredible number of great friends, colleagues and acquaintances. I had my siblings with me, and my kids were in the best school and doing fabulously.  I had a rocking life - great work, great friends, partying, socialising - everything you could want in a happy ,fulfilled life. 

I think the relentless pace got to me. Add to that the severe mid-life crisis that can hit anyone +/- 40 years and its accompanying insecurities and emotional upheavals. Looking back all the disasters hit me together - including the letting go of a dream job to chase another dream, the loss of a  dear friend, betrayal by some I considered my very own, and an illness in the family that rocked our very foundation .

The good thing about us humans is that when we are in a tough situation ,our energies are focussed on survival. Of getting through the day, of finishing a piece of work, of trying to bring some method to the madness. There is an unwillingness at that time to succumb to grief or let anxiety take you over. So when the phase is over, and life begins to brighten up, you suddenly think - OMG, that was the most horrible time of my life, and I survived!!

And now, so far away in Scarsdale, I feel I can finally breathe again. My family back home laughs everytime they Face Time with me and see me working , and my close pal calls me the Scarsdale Bai. But I enjoy it. The simple act of making tea, counting till 30 till my first flush tea brews to perfection. Of cooking a meal from scratch - cutting, chopping , frying and what not. Of doing the laundry and folding the clothes with ‘mindfulness’. Of dropping and picking up Praneet from the station. Of spending time with my kids, listening to their cultural experiences at the new school. 

For now - I am loving being alone. Going for long walks and discovering Scarsdale. Watching my favorite Game of Thrones with my breakfast. Writing. Reading. Sleeping early. Sleeping deep and long. I feel no pressure - of being well turned out, of having to make small talk, of being pulled in all directions, of my phone constantly pinging. No pressure to make friends, to keep in touch with anyone, to present a point of view or to get into a heated argument on any issue with anyone. 

Life has a way of giving you what you need. And I think this is what I had needed and not realised. A downtime to recharge myself ,my stretched patience and frazzled nerves. To slow down and pace myself out. To spend time with the people I love the most in the world. To finally be with myself. 

Knowing me , I possibly don’t have too much time in this phase . My hyperactive self will kick in soon enough. But for now I am content to be in this Slo Mo life.